


Go For The Throat

by laylabinx



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: And subsequently gets his ass kicked, Child Abuse, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Peter becomes the mascot, Peter is a very tiny badass, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Ravager fight club, The Ravagers are not nice people, Weird father/son bonding, Yondu is a good dad, Yondu teaches Peter how to fight, kind of, like a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laylabinx/pseuds/laylabinx
Summary: Peter finds out the hard way what it means to be the Ravager mascot and Yondu uses this as an opportunity to teach him how to kick someone's ass.





	Go For The Throat

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Hope you're all doing well! Okay, so I'll go ahead and warn everyone that there are some pretty disturbing elements of child abuse throughout this story. This was written for a prompt over of the LJ page that called for a situation similar to what baby Groot experienced when he was made the Ravager mascot and they beat the crap out of him only this time Peter is the mascot. It also called for Yondu teaching Peter to fight and I thought it was an interesting idea to play around with. So I apologize for the violence inflicted upon bb!Peter but I guarantee he makes up for it in the end and there's some weird/cute bonding between Peter and Yondu toward the end as well. Hope you all enjoy it! :D
> 
> A/N: I own nothing =/

Peter isn't exactly sure how this happened or why but he's pretty much learned that living with the Ravagers means you just stop asking questions and try not to die. That's what he tells himself at least, day in and day out. It's a hell of a lot easier than trying to explain how he ended up in the middle of a Ravager fight club.

The first blow catches him just beneath the ribs and causes him to stagger backwards into the wall of Ravagers surrounding him. He collides with someone, he's not sure who, and the men around him erupt in laughter. Whoever he runs into grabs a fistful of his shirt and shoves him back into the center of the circle. He's not so lucky this time and his shoe catches on the grated floor and he hits the ground hard. It hurts and it knocks the air out of him briefly but the pulls himself back up because staying down is not an option.

This wasn't exactly how he'd imagined today turning out but that's what happened. One minute he was walking down the hall, minding his own business, and the next he was snatched up and tossed into the center of Ravager fight ring. The abduction had been so quick and jarring that he didn't even have time to react until it was too late.

The Ravagers closed ranks around him immediately, blocking his chance for an escape and crowding him to the center. Not that Peter stood a very good chance of making a break for it anyway; the Ravagers towered over him and they all had weapons and yeah, he's more than a little terrified of damn near all of them.

One of them, a big, ugly man named Kaza, sees the confusion and fear on Peter's face and breaks into a loud, barking laugh. "What'sa matter, kid? You ain't never heard of being a mascot before?"

Peter almost shakes his head. He knows what mascots are and he's not sure what this has to do with anything.

All around him, the crew starts chanting the word 'mascot', quietly at first and gradually getting louder and louder until the word becomes nothing more than a deafening roar. It's becoming a frenzy and he's still trapped in the middle of it. Peter is terrified but he refuses to let them see it; he's been on this ship for over a month now and he knows that any sign of weakness could easily spell pain or death if he's not careful.

One of the Ravagers grabs him from behind and shoves him into a tattered red leather jacket that's at least three sizes too large while the chants of 'mascot' continue to echo through the room. The jacket is heavy and weighted and Peter nearly loses his balance when he gets pushed forward into the center of the ring again. It drags the ground behind him, pooling around his feet and tangling around his shoes. The sleeves are so long they brush past his knees and he struggles to pull them up far enough to free his hands. All the while, the Ravagers continue to surround him, chanting loudly and sneering at him.

"You wanna be a Ravager, you gotta prove you deserve to wear that jacket," Kaza tells him with a dangerous grin right before his arm swipes out and catches Peter in the side. It knocks him sideways into the wall of Ravagers and they knock him back in mercilessly. He trips, jumps back up, and they knock him down again.

Between the coat, the violent shoves, and the uneven floor, Peter has a really hard time keeping his balance. He stumbles and trips and catches himself only to be pushed again or get his feet swiped out from under him. It's painful and humiliating and Peter feels like he's caught in the middle of a giant pinball machine.

Someone lashed out and cuffs in him in the side of the head and the force is enough to knock him to the ground. He's not fast enough to get up this time, though, and they descend on him like a pack of wolves. He's kicked and punched and pummeled from every angle and all he can do is curl in on himself and shield his head and wait for it to be over.

Finally, the blows stop and Kaza reaches down and grabs him by the arm, jerking him up off the ground painfully. Peter is dizzy and disoriented and there's blood streaming from his nose and his busted lip.

"Tough luck, kid," the Ravager says with a sneer. "Looks like you ain't ready to wear this jacket yet after all." He tugs the jacket off, ignoring the stifled yelp from Peter, and tosses it to someone in the back. "Can't be a Ravager if you can't wear the jacket."

Peter wants to snap back with something snarky and sarcastic but all at once he's shoved out of the ring just as quickly as he was brought in and he finds himself staggering into the open hallway. He doesn't stop, he takes off running before anything else can happen. He can hear them laughing and jeering behind him but he doesn't stop running until the noise fades and he's alone in one of the lower floors of the ship.

He's sore and bruised and bloody and he can't quite stop the hot flood of tears that stream down his face. He finds a small crawlspace underneath one of the staircases and wedges himself into it, drawing his knees up to his chest and hiding his face. Between the hum of the engine and the constant creaking and groaning from the ship above, no one can hear him crying.

He hates this. It's been a little over a month since he got abducted, since his mother died and everything he knew from earth was snatched away from him. Since then his life has been an endless nightmare of abuse and humiliation and terror. The Ravagers used him as a punching bag every chance they got, they threatened to eat him at least once a week, and constantly teased him about everything from his home planet to his short stature. More than once they told him the only reason they decided to keep him around was because they could use him for stealing. He was a prop to them, a tool they could use and nothing more.

Peter lets out a shaky breath and allows his head to fall back against the wall. He reaches up and swipes his nose with the back of his hand, frowning when it comes away bloody. It doesn't feel broken though, nothing does, so at least there's that. He's going to be bruised and sore for the next few days but at least they didn't leave him with any broken bones.

He sighs and closes his eyes, hugging his knees closer to his chest and keeping himself tucked into the corner tightly. Not for the first time he wishes he was back home, away from this group of sociopaths and this ship and this...everything.

A tiny voice in the back of his mind pipes up and tells him the same thing it's told him daily since he was abducted: _get used to it_. This is his life now, whether he likes it or not, and his useless brain likes to remind him of that constantly. All he can do is suck it up and accept it because it's not changing anytime soon. Doesn't change the fact that he still hates it.

He sighs again and wipes the blood off the back of his hand, dabbing at his split lip with the corner of his sleeve. It's probably going to stain but he doesn't care. He doesn't care about a lot of things anymore. Kinda hard to care when you have nothing left to lose…

He does care about not getting his ass kicked again, though, so he stays tucked under the stairwell and waits it's safe to come out again.

**OOOOO**

They catch him again two days later when he's unloading a crate in the cargo hold. His back is turned and he doesn't even know someone is behind him until they swoop a bag over his head and drag him out of the room. Apparently this is some kind of a game that everyone but Peter thinks is great and the two Ravagers who grab him think it's hysterical when he tries to bite them through the bag. His threats and squirms are in vain and once again he's unceremoniously dumped in the middle of newly formed Ravager circle as the chants of 'mascot' begin again.

Unlike the first time, though, Peter's not scared when he gets thrown back into the ring. He's pissed. He lunges at the nearest Ravager, one of the ones who shoved the bag over his head, and takes a swing. It's deflected easily and he gets and kick in the gut for his efforts.

He staggers back and glares at the laughing, jeering criminals all around him, baring his teeth and trying to look tougher than he was. He remembered hearing something when he was younger about making yourself look bigger in front of predators. His grandpa had told him that about bears; make yourself seem bigger and the bear will leave you alone. Well he's not trying to ward off a bear now, it's something much worse and much more dangerous. In a room full of predators, there's no way for him to look that big.

Peter glares and stands his ground even when Kaza steps forward and wrestles him into the oversized coat again. He twists and squirms and fights back with everything he has but it's not enough. Kaza has two hundred pounds and three feet on him and the fight is over before it even starts. Still, Peter refuses to back down. If this is how it's going to be then fine; Peter is done being scared and helpless. So when the first blow comes, he hits back.

The swing is wild and uncoordinated but he makes solid contact with someone's face and the explosion of pain he feels in his hand is worth it for the startled cry of pain that his victim emits. Peter almost grins.

The reaction seems to stun the Ravagers around him and several of them raise their eyebrows in surprise when they see Peter lash out in retaliation. It doesn't stop them from continuing to beat the crap out of him but it does earn him just the slightest bit of respect.

"Well would'ja look at that," one of them says with an ugly laugh. "Kid's not as much of a wuss as we thought!" He cackles again and kicks Peter in the back of the leg hard enough to knock him forward.

Another Ravager steps forward to block his fall but it's not so much out of the kindness of his heart as it is an excuse to throw Peter to the ground. "Better keep an eye on 'im," he warns the others, flashing a crooked grin at the boy in the center of the circle. "He might actually land a decent punch one day."

Peter lets out an enraged snarl and lunges at the Ravager in front of him but he's kicked backwards again. He lands hard and bounces against the unforgiving floor.

"Not likely!" someone else chimes in from the back with a gleeful cackle. "Kid fights like a pissed off puppy! Look at 'im! It's adorable!"

Peter gets his feet under him and lunges again, this time making contact. He tackles the nearest Ravager to the ground and pins him down. It doesn't exactly provide him with the reaction he'd hoped for. The attack is viewed as less of a threat and more of a joke to his opponent who takes one look at the feisty, pissed off Terran above him and bursts out laughing.

"Look at 'im gettin' all riled up!" someone crows from above with another loud laugh. "Better back off, the pup's gettin' angry!"

The Ravager on the ground flips Peter off of him and throws him into the waiting arms of the crowd. Someone grabs him under the arms and someone else bars him in a headlock as something thick and alcoholic is poured over his head. It smells like gasoline and it feels greasy as it drenches him from the shoulders up and he coughs and sputters in disgust.

"Not much of a drinker, is he?" the Ravager with the alcohol laughs, earning a loud chorus of agreement from those around him. The arms release him and he's shoved back to the center again, pissed off and dripping.

"Not much of a fighter, either," Kaza grumbles as he steps forward, swiping the boy's feet out from under him in one smooth movement. Peter lands in an awkward heap on the ground and glares up at the bigger Ravager. He spits a mouthful of blood onto the grated floor, never breaking eye contact.

"Not much of a fighter, not much of a Ravager," Kaza continues, unperturbed by Peter's icy glare. His lip draws up in an ugly smirk. "Not much of anything really."

For some reason that's what does it, that's what makes him snap. The condescension and dismissal in Kaza's tone sets him off and Peter launches himself at the bigger man without a second thought. In his blind rage, though, he doesn't see the fist that comes up and catches him in the stomach, knocking him back to the floor with a heavy thud.

"You got balls, kid, I'll give you that," Kaza growls above him, kicking Peter solidly in the side before grabbing him by the arm and shaking him like a ragdoll. "But you're gnat takin' on a solar storm." He lifts Peter up until he's eye level with him and bares his teeth. "You're nothing, boy. Get used to it."

And with that he drops him again, heavy and unforgiving, and Peter bounces off the grated floor with a painful grunt. Around him the circle has started to dissipate as the other Ravagers grow bored and wander off to find something else to do. Peter doesn't move but he sits there, crumpled on the grated floor and shaking so hard he can barely see straight.

The jacket is tugged off of him again and Kaza crouches low until he's eye-level with Peter. "You'll never be a Ravager," he tells him with a sneer. "Should've just killed you and been done with it."

He stands then and turns around, walking in the opposite direction and leaving Peter alone and bruised on the floor. Peter watches him go and he doesn't move, he just glares and seethes and shakes. He grips the grates so hard the bite into his palms and draw fresh blood but he doesn't move. He stays there on the floor for a long time, bleeding, bruised, and angry.

**OOOOO**

Peter has a shiner. Kraglin frowns when he sees it, doing a doubletake to make sure it's not a trick of the light. Nope, Peter most definitely has a shiner. An ugly one at that. Damn thing is like a work of art.

The kid isn't paying attention to him, focused instead on whatever menial task he's been assigned to for the day. He's looking down but even from that angle Kraglin can make out the dark bruises that line his eyes and nose and the split down the center of his lip. He frowns to himself but doesn't dwell on it too much; Ravagers fight and Peter is a fighter, they found that out the first day they picked him up with he came onto the ship swinging. So maybe the kid got in over his head a bit and this was the result; there were worse ways to learn.

He goes back to unloading the cargo they'd hauled back, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder at their newest crew member. Peter had been on the ship for over a month now and he was finally starting to learn the ropes. Sort of. Maybe. The kid was scrawny and small and he didn't look like much of anything but Yondu insisted on keeping him on instead of delivering him to his father like they'd been paid to do. Kraglin didn't ask many questions about, partially because it wasn't his place and also because Yondu usually had pretty good reasons for the the things he did. He'd always been fond of strays anyway, so what was one more?

They'd been planetside for the past week making arrangements for an upcoming bounty and had left the crew to their own devices in the meantime. Kraglin had mentioned Peter briefly before they left, wondering if it was such a good idea to leave him alone with the rest of the crew while they were gone. The Captain shrugged off his concerns easily, telling him that Peter would need to get used to the crew one way or another and learn his place on the ship.

He assured his first mate that the kid had a direct line to him if he got in trouble and that if it came down to it he'd go back and deal with it himself but in the meantime Peter needed to square up. He wasn't leaving him for the wolves but he wasn't going to coddle him either; if Peter was going to be a Ravager then he needed to learn how to be one.

Still, Kraglin knows firsthand how rough and rowdy the crew can become when they're left to their own devices and he wonders if Peter might have landed himself on the receiving end of that behavior. He turns back to say something to him but the kid is already gone, disappearing into the confines of the ship without a word. He frowns again and tries to shrug it off but the memory of the black eye sticks out in his mind like a beacon and he can't bring himself to ignore it.

Sighing heavily, more to himself than anyone else, he finishes unloading the cargo and stalks off into the ship in search of Peter. It's probably nothing, it's almost _definitely_ nothing, but he needs to be sure so he can put the flicker of concern to rest and get back to work. It'll keep nagging at him if he doesn't and it's better to go ahead and shut it down rather than try to tune it out.

He doesn't find him in any of the bottom levels of the ship but he's not really surprised by that. There's nothing but cargo holds and engine rooms down there so there's really no reason to think Peter ended up down there. The mid-level is clear too as well as the mess hall and the flight deck. There's no sign of Peter but then again there's no sign of the rest of the crew either which is mildly concerning. It's a big ship, sure, but it's not that big; he should have seen someone by now.

He hears them before he finds them, a loud chorus of voices that bounce off the walls all around. It's loud enough that it carries past two full levels of the ship and by the time Kraglin actually finds them, the noise is deafening. They're crowded around in a circle that takes up the entire width of the hall and it looks like they're messing with something in the middle. That something happens to be Peter.

The kid is trapped in the center of the circle, glaring and lashing out wildly as he's shoved from one side to the other. The Ravagers closest to the center are taking turns shoving and pushing him and the ones further back are laughing loudly and taking bets over who can get the better hit in. It's a pitiful sight, really, and Kraglin is suddenly all too aware of where the shiner came from.

"The hell is goin' on here?" he asks loudly, voice cutting over the noise from the rest of the crew. The cheers and laughter die down instantly and they all turn back to look at the first mate.

"We were just having a little fun with our newest addition," the Ravager closest to him says with a sadistic little grin. "That's all."

"Y'all're slackin' off, is what you're doing," Kraglin corrects him sharply and the grin falls from the other Ravager's face. "If y'all have time to organize a fight club then y'all have time to work. Get to it."

There are a few grumbles of irritation but the crowd of Ravagers disperses slowly. Satisfied that another fight isn't about to break out, Kraglin pushes his way through the few crew members who linger behind and stops in front of Peter. For a brief, fleeting moment, the kid looks like he wants to take a swing at him. He's tense and cagey like a trapped animal and he's glaring at Kralin like he's contemplating all the ways he can simultaneously take him down and run away.

The first mate holds up his hands briefly in a sign of peace and reaches out to grab the boy by the elbow. When Peter flinches, Kraglin rolls his eyes. "Knock it off, brat," he mutters, nodding back over his shoulder. "'M tryin' to help you."

Peter relaxes marginally but the wariness doesn't leave his eyes. He no longer looks like he wants to punch Kraglin though which is a step in the right direction.

The other Ravager takes that as a sign of progress and gently tugs Peter down the hall. "Cap'n's gonna wanna talk to you," he says, keeping a loose grip on the boy's arm and leading him down the hall away from the other Ravagers.

**OOOOO**

"The hell happened to you?"

"Crew decided to make 'im the mascot," Kraglin explains simply, pushing Peter into the room. He divests him of the oversized coat the kid still tangled in and tosses it out into the hallway.

Yondu looks unimpressed but not surprised. "Thought they got over that," he says, walking across the room toward Peter.

"'Parently not," Kraglin replies with a small shrug. "Kid got a few good hits in though."

The Captain scoffs quietly in disbelief and shakes his head. "That right?" he asks, dropping down to crouch in front of Peter. His crimson eyes sweep over the boy's bruised, bloody features quickly and he sneers a bit. "He didn't put up that good of a fight obviously; looks like he's more bruise than boy at the moment."

He reaches out and grabs Peter by the chin, lifting his head a little to inspect the damage a bit closer. Busted lip, bloody nose, black eyes, the usual for their line of work. Still, there's an undeniable sharpness to Peter's eyes and he meets Yondu's gaze unflinchingly. Kid's a fighter, he'll give him that. It earns him a flicker quick smirk in response.

"Take 'im to get cleaned up and bring 'im back here in ten minutes," he tells Kraglin, nudging the boy back toward his first mate. "We'll figure out what to do about this whole 'mascot' business."

Kraglin nods and grabs Peter by the shoulder, steering him out of the room and back down the hallway. He comes to a stop in front of a supply closet and parks Peter next to the door while he rummages inside, pulling out a tattered box of bandages and antiseptic cloths.

He rips one of the packages open with his teeth and tugs the cloth out, handing it to Peter deftly. "Here, wipe the blood off your face," he tells him, pulling another cloth out and handing it to him as well. "You look like hell."

Peter says nothing but he takes the offered cloths and scrubs them over his face roughly. The white fabric is quickly stained a garish reddish brown and the antiseptic stings when it comes in contact with the broken skin.

"Did'ja try to fight back?" Kraglin asks him carefully, watching the boy from the corner of his eyes as he continues to scrub his face. For all the scrappiness he displayed earlier, Peter looks small and haggard now. It makes Kraglin frown; not because he cares about the kid or anything but because if he knows anything at all about Terrans (which is not a lot), it's that they're breakable. Thin bones, squishy organs, not exactly prime subjects for fighting. Still, Peter is stubborn and headstrong and if any Terran is going to stand a chance on this ship it's probably him.

"I tried," Peter mumbles miserably, dropping one of the used cloths to the ground and unfolding another one. This one doesn't come away as dirty but there are still streaks of blood and grime that smear across the cloth. "There were too many of 'em."

"Yeah, well, that happens sometimes," Kraglin says with a small shrug. "Most'a the time you'll be outnumbered, most'a the time they'll gang up on ya. Fights on this ship usually ain't fair, kid. Should probably get used to that." He reaches down and snatches up the used cloths Peter dropped and tosses them into a bucket inside the closet. "And they won't stop messin' with ya until it stops bein' fun for 'em."

He shrugs again because it sucks but he doesn't have a better answer. "Best thing you can do is learn to fight back and stop makin' yourself an easy target." Peter looks affronted but he doesn't say anything.

Kraglin sighs softly and pushes the door closed, nodding back toward the Captain's quarters. "Come'on," he says, standing slowly and nudging the boy back down the hall.

**OOOOO**

Yondu is standing in the middle of the room when they get back. He's shed his jacket and cleared a space in the center of the room to provide better mobility. It looks like an impromptu boxing ring and Peter is automatically wary.

"Come're, boy," he says, motioning Peter forward. "If yer gonna survive on this ship, ya need to learn how to fight. No one's ever gonna take you seriously as a Ravager if you can't throw a decent punch."

Peter wants to argue that he doesn't really _want_ to be a Ravager but he wisely keeps it to himself. When he doesn't move, Kraglin rolls his eyes a little and pushes him forward. "This lesson ain't optional, brat."

Peter stumbles a little but stays upright, coming to stand in front of the Ravager Captain. Yondu looks him up and down briefly before opening his arms in invitation. "Hit me."

The order catches him off guard and Peter blinks in confusion. He shakes his head a little. "No."

The Captain smirks. "What's wrong, boy? Ya scared?"

"No," Peter counters defiantly with a glare. "But I'm not stupid either. You're bigger than me, it won't be a fair fight."

It's Yondu's turn to roll his eyes. "Hate to break it to ya, kid, but most fights aren't fair. There's always gonna be someone bigger or stronger than you, someone who wants yer blood just a little bit more than you want theirs. That's why ya need to learn how to hold yer own in a fight cuz this life ain't gonna get any easier for ya. Now," he says as he opens his arms again and squares his shoulders. "Hit me."

Peter weighs his options for about two more seconds before resigning himself to his fate. He balls his fists, lunges forward, and takes a swing.

And immediately ends up on the ground.

The flip happens so quick he doesn't even realize it's happened until he's flat on his back

and staring up at the ceiling. Yondu towers above him, looking down at him with sharp red eyes and looking decidedly unimpressed.

"Pathetic," he mumbles, stepping to the side to give Peter room to sit back up. "There are five important rules when it comes to fightin', kid. The first is to know yer strengths. If ya don't got any then you make some up." He indicates Peter's body with a sweep of his hand. "For instance, yer short and scrawny so use that. Someone bigger'n you is gonna have a harder time tryin' to catch you so use that to yer advantage. If they're bigger, you gotta be faster and smarter."

Peter pushes himself back up and squares his shoulders. It earns him another smirk from Yondu and the captain motions him to strike again. Peter sighs quietly and charges forward again.

And gets tossed across the room.

He slides across the floor and his back crashes into the wall painfully. "Rule two," Yondu says, watching as Peter struggles to pull himself back up across the room. "Don't let yer guard down. It don't matter if you have the upper hand or not, never let yer guard down. The second ya do that, it's all over but the cryin'."

Peter nods once and stands slowly, rolling his shoulders back a little. The indication comes for him to take another swing and he thinks he should try a different tactic this time. So he crosses the room slowly, keeping his eyes on Yondu as he approaches. Just when he gets a few feet away he feigns to the left and tries to take the captain out at the knees.

And it might have worked if Yondu hadn't anticipated the strike, sidestepped, and kneed Peter in the ribs. The second Peter hits the ground, Kraglin is grabbing him by the back of the shirt and wrestling him into a tight headlock. It's startling and Peter strugglings violently against him but he can't break free.

"Rule three," the Ravager captain says, ignoring the boy's fruitless from struggles across the room. "Never assume it's gonna be a fair fight." He nods toward his first mate as indication of this. "Sometimes you'll be outnumbered, sometimes you'll be outgunned; never trick yerself into thinking the fight'll be fair. It hardly ever is. If it's ever two against one, it's _two_ against _one_."

Kraglin releases him then and drops him back onto the floor, stepping away for the rest of the lesson. Peter shoots a glare over his shoulder but stands up again. The second he's back on his feet, there's a sharp whistle that cuts through the air like a blade and suddenly there's a very sharp, very deadly arrow leveled directly between his eyes. Peter freezes instantly.

"Fourth rule," Yondu says evenly, eyes locked on the motionless boy. "Always assume yer enemy has a weapon. Just like you should never let yer guard down, you should always assume whoever yer fightin' is gonna have some kinda weapon at their disposal. Gun, knife, fists, don't matter. If they got a weapon, they're gonna use it and they're gonna use it on you."

He whistles again and the arrow zips back across the room and disappears into the inner pocket of his coat. Peter relaxes just a little but he doesn't let his guard down completely.

"Fifth and final rule," Yondu says, holding his hand up to display five extended, blue fingers. "You have two choices when it comes to the outcome of a fight, boy: you either go for the balls or you go for the throat."

Upon seeing Peter's slightly confused expression, he elaborates. "When yer squarin' off against someone, you decide early on how that fight's gonna end. If you go for the balls, yer cripplin' them enough for you to get away. It's a temporary solution; you break their legs or shatter their spine or literally hit 'em in the balls, whatever enables you to get outta there."

He stops walking and levels his gaze on Peter. "You go for the throat though, that's more permanent. A throat shot is exactly that, it's an endgame decision. There ain't no unfinished business, no scores to settle; they're done. You go for the throat and they're not gonna mess with ya ever again."

The Ravager captain shrugs slightly. "Personally, I prefer the throat option cuz it means one less someone gunnin' for my head at the end'a the day but the choice is yers if it ever comes down to it." He looks back at Peter and gives him a crooked smirk. "Just make sure ya make the right call."

He cracks his neck deftly and rolls his shoulders back. "Hope you were payin' attention to all that, kid, cuz we're about to put it to the test."

Peter doesn't even have time to brace himself before Kraglin comes up behind him again and plans a solid kick into the back of his knee. It knocks Peter forward and he turns to face his attacker only to be struck from behind by Yondu. He's been ambushed again and it might not be the fight ring from before but it doesn't change the fact that Peter is still stuck in the middle.

Luckily, this doesn't seem to be a legitimate fight so much as a teaching/training session. The blows are softer, the strikes a bit slower, and yeah, Peter still gets his ass handed to him but it's constructive instead of destructive. Each attack is accompanied by a suggested block or counterattack. Every blow has a lesson behind it and they're going to make damn sure Peter knows it by the end of all this.

He's not sure how long it lasts; he gets kicked, punched, tossed, and thrown around the room more times than he can count. But he starts to make progress, dodging punches and delivering some of his own, feinting one blow to exchange another. He takes Yondu's advice to heart and uses his size and agility to his advantage, hopping just out of reach and going for every low blow that he can. He's not great at it, not yet, but it's a start.

He doesn't know if he can blame it on skill or dumb luck but he manages to surprise Kraglin at one point and take him down to the ground, digging one bony knee into the first mate's chest. The Ravager blinks in surprise before breaking into a low, deep laugh. "Might turn you into a fighter yet," he chuckles with approval before flipping Peter off of him gracelessly.

Peter lands flat on his back with a very small, satisfied smile and slowly pushes himself up on his elbows. Kraglin is standing now and he reaches down to pull Peter up off the ground with a quick jerk.

"Well, I certainly ain't gonna be takin' bets on 'im but it's a start," Yondu says, nudging the boy in the shoulder none too gently in a way that almost indicated approval. "Least now ya might be able to hold yer own if ya need to." He nods to Kraglin and indicates the door with a jut of his chin. "Make sure the rest'a the crew are ready to set out in an hour; we gotta get to Thira by tomorrow."

"Aye, Cap'n," Kraglin says, ushering Peter toward the door as well. He's sore and bruised and achy all over but for some reason he feels oddly self-satisfied and content like he accomplished something in the fast few hours.

"Kid," Yondu's voice cuts through his thoughts and he looks back over his shoulder before they leave. "Remember what I told ya: when it comes down to it, you gotta decide if yer gonna go for the balls or go for the throat. You want that problem to end, you go for the throat. Got it?"

Peter nods once in understanding. "Got it."

"Good," the captain says, nodding toward the door again. "Now get out of here." And with that the door slides closed behind them.

**OOOOO**

Peter gets caught again less than a week later. Honestly he's a little surprised it took this long...

They had just completed a job in the Feres quadrant and were set to meet up with another dealer the next galaxy over by the end of the week. It would be another two full days of travel before they reached their destination and boredom became the bane of their existence. Peter tried to keep a low profile, steering clear of large groups and cramped spaces in an effort to avoid being snatched up again. It didn't work; he was ambushed ten feet away from his room and dragged, kicking and writhing, down the hall toward an open landing in the middle of the ship. The circle had already been formed, the Ravagers were already chanting, and Peter was once again dumped unceremoniously in the center of the circle.

Kaza is standing toward the inside, grinning maliciously with his ugly, scarred face. "Well, look what we got here, boys! A wad of space trash that wants to sully our good ship! We can't let that stand, can we?"

There's a loud chorus of shouts and cheers around them and Peter clenches his hands into fists to keep his fingers from shaking. He's trying to look brave instead of terrified, pissed instead of scared, but he's not sure it's working all that well. He tries to remember all the tips and tricks Yondu and Kraglin taught him a few days before but between the deafening roar of the Ravagers all around him and the undeniable terror of being stuck in the middle of the circle again, it's hard to think clearly about anything.

He does manage to avoid the first attack, a heavy swipe from one side that nearly catches him in the chest. He dodges backwards but that puts him grabbing distance of someone else and then the beating starts again. For every punch he blocks, there's a kick to his ribs; when he dodges a swing at his head, someone goes for the knees. It's relentless and overwhelming and he tries as hard as he can to stay upright and fight back but there are just too many of them.

A large, heavy foot catches him in the middle of the back and knocks him to the ground with a painful grunt. He coughs brokenly and struggles to catch his breath, gasping on his hands and knees on the ground.

"The only thing to do with trash on our ship is to dispose of it," Kaza grumbles behind him, his foot still planted in the middle of Peter's back. "Tough luck, kid."

Peter has a vaguely hysterical thought that this is it, this is how he's going to die, and he almost accepts it, but then his eyes land on something about a foot away. It's a chunk of metal, roughly the size of a basketball, and it's jagged and twisted around the edges. It had come from one of the smaller fighter ships, a chunk of siding that had been blown out and discarded after a fire fight. It's sitting there, twisted and useless on the floor, and Peter stares at it critically.

 _Never assume the fight's gonna be fair_ , that's what Yondu had told him when he was teaching him how to fight while simultaneously kicking his ass. What else did he say? _Always assume your enemy has a weapon…?_

Peter reaches out and locks his fingers around the edge of the chunk of metal. It's jagged and sharp and it cuts into his fingers but he doesn't let go. Kaza's boot is a heavy, unforgiving weight against his back and he knows that whatever he's going to do, he's going to have to make this count if he wants to survive to puberty. Yondu had told him if he wanted to end a fight he should go for the throat so that's exactly what he does.

He pushes backward with all his strength and manages to knock Kaza back a few feet. The taller Ravager stumbles just a bit but the distraction is more than enough. Keeping a firm grip on the chunk of metal, Peter wheels around and catches Kaza in the knee with one jagged edge. Blood arcs through the air and there's a startled, croaked cry of pain from the wounded Ravager but Peter doesn't stop. Something snaps in him then, something deep and raw and primal that he'd been suppressing ever since his mother died. It's caged and angry and he's more than happy to release it.

As Kaza staggers backwards again, Peter pursues him like a wolf. He lunges at him and swings the chunk of metal again, hitting Kaza in the side and colliding with two or three others standing nearby. There's a startled frenzy of shouts and curses but no one steps forward to stop Peter. It's almost like they're afraid of him. It makes Peter bite down a grin.

"You little-!" Kaza snarls, slapping one hand over the bleeding gash in his side while hobbling on his destroyed knee. He reaches for his pocket, whether it's for a knife or gun, Peter's not sure, but he doesn't give him time to get it. The boy closes the distance between them in less than two steps and, with a deep, guttural growl, he swings the metal upwards.

It strikes Kaza's jaw with a deep crunch and the bigger Ravager falls into a motionless heap instantly. For a second no one moves or speaks or blinks; it's hard to tell if anyone is even breathing. Peter is still standing above Kaza, gripping the metal chunk in his shredded, bleeding hands, and he's speckled in a mixture of his own blood and that of the other Ravagers around them. There's a dark pool of it streaming from Kaza's mouth and Peter knows if he didn't kill him, he at least shattered his jaw.

There's a shuffle of movement around him, slow at first but then becoming a bit more noticeable, and Peter knows it's only a matter of time before the rest of them decide to jump him and even the score. Honestly, he doesn't even care anymore. He went for the throat and he won the fight. It's a victory for him and that's all that matters.

A sharp whistle cuts through the air and suddenly Yondu's glowing red arrow is in hovering in the center of the circle. For a brief moment, Peter wonders if Yondu is going to kill him for what he did to Kaza. But then the Ravager captain is approaching and he's looking at everyone but Peter and for some reason that's even more intimidating.

"Well, well, well," he says as he pushes his way through the surrounding crowd. "Looks like quite the party! You boys mind tellin' me what's goin' on down here?"

"S-sorry, Cap'n," one of the Ravagers speaks up, shuffling back a bit away from the other man. "We was just-"

Yondu cuts him off with a sharp glare. "Trick question. I know what y'all were doin' and it stops now." His tone makes it clear the price for argument or defiance will be painful and slow.

He continues walking forward, crimson eyes locked on the unconscious Ravager on the ground and the tiny human standing above him. He smirks a little and shakes his head. "Seems like Kaza bit off more'n he could chew with this one," he says, planting a heavy kick the other wounded Ravager's ribs, earning him a dull groan in response.

He turns his attention to Peter and looks him up and down. The boy is still gripping the chunk of metal in one hand and blood is seeping out between his fingers, dripping down onto the floor in tiny crimson puddles. Yondu's eyes narrow a little.

"Drop it," he says simply and Peter obeys instantly. Satisfied, he nods back toward Kaza. "You do that?"

Peter nods once, a shaky little bob of his head and mutters something quietly.

"Speak up, boy."

"I went for the throat," Peter says again, raising his head a bit more and meeting the captain's eyes evenly. It earns him a crooked grin and a loud bark of laughter in response.

"That you did, boy. That you did," Yondu says with another smirk. He looks down at Kaza again nods to Peter. "Take his jacket."

That causes Peter to blink in surprise and he balks at the order. "What?"

"Ya heard me," the captain says again, nodding back to Kaza. "Take his jacket."

Peter hesitates for a split second before slowly stepping forward toward Kaza's motionless form. He keeps expecting this to be a trick, a plot orchestrated by all of the Ravagers that he was soon to be on the receiving end of. Maybe Yondu just needed to get him closer to he could kill him in front of the crew to make an example. Whatever the case was, Peter took the two steps to reach Kaza's body like he was taking steps to the gallows.

Nothing happens when he reaches Kaza's body and nothing happens when he reaches out and grabs two fistfuls of his jacket. He looks around quickly, anticipating an attack, but none comes. If anything, it seems that Yondu is keeping the other Ravagers away from him.

It takes a few seconds but Peter is able to wrestle the jacket off of Kaza and hold it up in front of him. It earns him another smirk from Yondu.

"Ravagers have to earn their jackets, kid," he tells him, loud enough for everyone around them to hear. "It ain't just somethin' yer given, ya gotta earn it to prove you deserve it." He nods toward the jacket in Peter's hands as indication. "You earned that jacket today and ya earned the right to be called a Ravager."

He turns to address the crowd of Ravagers around them, speaking loudly and clearly. "Kid's a Ravager now. He earned his place on this ship an' he's gonna be treated same as the rest 'a you lot. Anyone got a problem with that, ya come find me."

"But Cap'n," one of them says from a few feet away. "What about Kaza?"

Yondu glares down at the unconscious man again and sneers in disgust. "Can't be a Ravager if you don't got the jacket," he says simply, turning back to look at the crowd. "We'll drop 'im at the next port, let 'im be someone else's problem for a while."

He levels a glare at the rest of the crew before stepping away. "If I have to tell all'a you to get back to work there's gonna be hell to pay."

That shakes everyone from their frozen stupor and almost instantly the crowd clears and two of the other Ravagers step forward to scoop Kaza off the ground. While they drag him away, Yondu steps forward and grabs Peter by the arm, pulling him away from the crowd and down one of the winding halls of the ship. There are echoes of voices and shouts all over the ship but they seems like they're coming from every hallway except the one they're in. It gets quieter the farther they walk, the voices dying down to little more than a murmur above them.

Peter follows Yondu silently. He has no idea where they're going but he's too tired and numb to care. He still has Kaza's jacket wadded in his arms and it feels heavy and thick against his chest. It smells like blood and Peter sees a dark, gruesome streak of it across the collar. If he had any energy at all, he might have felt disgusted.

They finally stop in front of a closed door and Yondu lets go of Peter's arm to punch in a code. The door slides open and Yondu ushers him inside a moment later. Peter stumbles into the room and it takes him a full five seconds to realize they're standing in the captain's quarters.

Yondu walks in behind him and points to a nearby chair. "Sit," he tells him shortly before walking over to a desk across the room and rifling through one of the drawers. Peter does as he's told, shuffling over to the chair and slumping into it heavily. He's suddenly exhausted, achy and sore all over, and he stares at the floor for several long seconds before Yondu steps in front of him and breaks him out of his reverie.

"Show me yer hands, boy," the captain says, dropping down into a crouch in front of Peter.

For a second, Peter has no idea what he's talking about. He dropped the chunk of metal back in the middle of the ship and he certainly didn't have any other weapons with him. He frowns in confusion and shakes his head. "What?"

"Yer hands," Yondu says again, rolling his eyes a little at the boy's ignorance. Upon receiving another blank look, he sighs and reaches out, grabbing one of Peter's wrists from under the wad of Kaza's jacket that's draped across the boy's lap. "Yer gettin' blood everywhere."

Peter looks down at the hand Yondu pulled out and suddenly understands what s talking about. The palm of his hand and his fingers are shredded, deep, long cuts criss-crossing through his flesh. They're bleeding freely and heavily, blood streaming between his fingers and dripping onto his pants. He thinks it should probably hurt like hell but adrenaline is an amazing thing he hardly feels anything at all.

Yondu wrestles his other hand free from under Kaza's jacket and it's just as torn up as the other. Between the two of them, it looks like Peter took on a blender head on and lost.

"Yer hands are a wreck, kid," the captain tells him quietly, digging a wad of bandages out of one pocket and small glass bottle out of the other. Peter guesses that's what he was searching for in the drawer but he can't be sure.

Yondu uncorks the bottle with his teeth and pours some of the contents over the wounds. It's a super fine dust, dull orange in color, and Peter is fully expecting it to burn like all hell but it doesn't. Instead it's oddly cool and tingles a little when it seeps into the cuts. It numbs the shredded skin and clots the blood almost instantly, stemming the flow in clumps of orange dust.

"A chunk of metal prob'ly wasn't the best choice for a weapon but I'll give ya points for creativity," Yondu says, carefully dusting off a few of the larger, thicker clumps of dust off of Peter's hands so he can wrap them. The bandaging process does hurt though and Peter can't quite hide the whimper of pain ripples through him.

The captain glances up at him before turning his attention to the jacket sprawled across the boy's lap. "Hang on to that," he tells Peter, nodding toward the jacket as indication. "It won't fit ya for a while but you'll grow into it. Every Ravager needs a jacket, boy."

Peter flinches again as one of the bandages pulls against his palm and he frowns. "I'm sorry," he says suddenly, quietly.

Yondu frowns as well and raises an eyebrow. "The hell are you sorry for?"

Peter shifts a bit uncomfortably and sighs heavily. "For hitting Kaza," he says after a second. He's not sure why he's apologizing but he knows he always got in trouble for fighting when he was back on earth so it seems like the thing to do.

Yondu stares at him for a second like he's not quite sure of Peter is serious or not. "Kid," he says slowly after a second or so of silence passes. "You do realize Kaza was gonna kill you, right? If you hadn't gotten the upper hand and taken him down, he was going to kill you in front of the rest'a the crew. Not might've, not could've, he would have." Yondu sits back a little and gestures at Peter up and down with a sweep of his hand. "Hell, the only reason yer still breathin' right now is because you thought to grab that piece'a metal. Otherwise you'd be dead and crushed at the bottom of Kaza's boot."

Peter nods once in understanding but he's still frowning. "My mama always told me it was wrong to fight," he mumbles quietly.

The captain rolls his eyes again and shakes his head. "Well, yer mama ain't here, boy, _I_ am. And I'm tellin' ya that if someone starts a fight with ya, you make sure yer the one that finishes it. Understand?"

Peter nods quickly.

"Good," Yondu says with a nod of his own, tucking the rest of the bandages and the bottle back into his pocket. "'Sides," he says with a small shrug. "If yer mama was here I'm pretty sure she'd want you to fight back instead of gettin' yerself killed."

Peters nods again, a little more sure this time. He has a point; his mother didn't approve of fighting but she would encourage him to stand up for himself. And if standing up for himself and keeping himself from getting killed meant bludgeoning another Ravager in the face with a large piece of metal then he supposes it's justified.

"Now," Yondu says, standing slowly and plucking Peter out of the chair carefully. "Go back to yer bunk and get some rest. It's gonna take a few days for those cuts to heal and it works better when yer not awake to mess with 'em." He guides Peter over to the door and it slides open quietly. "And don't worry about that mascot business, I'll handle that." There's a slightly dangerous look in the captain's eyes and Peter wants to ask about but he keeps it to himself.

"I don't think you gotta worry about those boys messin' with ya anymore," the captain continues almost as an afterthought. "Ravagers are all about respect, kid, and you definitely earned some today. Ya made a pretty good impression on 'em when ya wrecked Kaza's face."

Peter almost smiles but it doesn't fully form. He's tired and sore now that the adrenaline is finally wearing off and his hands feel heavy and useless at his sides. Going to sleep sounds like the best idea he's ever had and honestly that's all he wants to do right now. He stumbles out into the hall, the Ravager jacket heavy in his arms again, and starts making his way toward his room.

"And Peter," Yondu's voice carries from behind him. Peter turns back to look at the Ravager captain. "Ya did good today, boy. It takes most Ravagers a year or better to earn their jackets, you got yers in just over a month. It's somethin' to be proud of. Just don't let it get to yer head, got it?"

He flashes a quick wink at the boy before the door slides closed and Peter is left alone in the hallway. In spite of everything, Peter smiles faintly to himself and holds the jacket against his chest as he makes his way down the hall. You need a jacket to be a Ravager and Peter has a jacket.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly not sure how Ravagers get their jackets (murder initiation? Idk...) so I just kinda made this last part up. Also we should be friends on Tumblr; come find me: Atlantisburning. 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading guys! :D


End file.
